As I See It: A little soul searching never hurt anybody

Saturday

Nov 9, 2013 at 4:00 PM

By Harriett GustasonFor The Journal-Standard

I’ve been thinking. Dangerous, huh? I have a couple of questions of which I invite you to give some thought ... as I have.

As I often flounder at this ripe old age I have attained, I do a lot of assessing of my life and life in general. It is my feeling that I have had a rich life, and I wonder why I feel that way. There’s been nothing exceptional, nothing that could be considered particularly out of the ordinary. Judging for myself, and that is dangerous too, I have had a blessed life even though there have been grievous happenings and various stumbling blocks. My husband and I lost our 24-year-old son in a car accident. I lost my husband at age 54 to cancer. Is that enough to convince me that I have been around the block a few times?

But I’ve never really felt cheated. These things can happen to anyone. I’ve never envied anyone. I grew up the child of hard-working, caring parents who did the best they could to raise me and my three brothers to be compassionate, law-abiding citizens with means to attain good lives. I married the man I loved, my high school sweetheart and had his five children. I felt fulfilled. He died too soon at age 54, and at times I felt cheated by his early death, but the years went by and I’ve had the blessing of loyal children, friends, and holding a job I seemed to fit for more than 30 years. I also acquired a dozen grandkids, and so far three greats.

Could anyone ask for more?

I always had dreams of writing books, but that has never materialized. The journalistic pursuit seemed to replace that ambition. However I still have hopes of doing one, writing my life story as one of my daughters keeps urging me to do. But I’m thinking I’d better get at it. There is a very real deadline for that. But there’s one catch. I am a hopeless procrastinator. Well that’s my problem. I have to deal with it, but now there is something I’d like for you, the reader, to do.

I want for you to ask yourselves, and answer, what do you think really makes a fulfilling life? What are the elements of “quality of life”? What are the things a person has to have to feel life is fulfilled? I guess what set me on this “trip” is the fact that I see so many people who do not seem to have a purpose, a direction or any defined idea of what true happiness is.

What is “quality of life”?

What have you wanted most out of life? Did you find it? If so, how? If not, why? What did you miss? You may still be seeking. In fact, most of us probably are.

Why don’t you make a list of what has meant the most to you throughout your life. Ask yourself whether or not you accomplished it, or if something else replaced it.

Of course for most any person, the top of the list should be having a family or a person/persons in his or her life for whom her or she would have or did sacrifice. It would be hard to imagine a person being fulfilled in life if he or she had no one of mutual caring — no matter what the relationship.

Good health is also near the top of the list for a fulfilled life, freedom from pain and discomfort, the vigor of getting out and being part of the action. Most of us sacrifice a lot for that privilege. Is that wrong? It doesn’t seem so. Nobody really wants to be sick or debilitated.

But beyond that, what makes a fulfilled life? Is it owning material goods, a nice home, a good automobile, an adequate income, and yes, the comforts of life? We all see people whose home or properties of one kind or another command the biggest share of their devotion. Keeping it perfect demands their dedication. Is that enough for arriving at that fulfillment we all seem to be seeking, feeling the goal has been met? It is finished.

There must be more

Have you heard the much-repeated parable of the good Samaritan, the one where the priest and the Levite, and I think someone else, pass by a beaten, robbed and injured person lying by the side of the road, repelled by the situation. It took a scorned and alien Samaritan to stop and rescue the victim.

I’ve often wondered how those who passed on by felt about themselves. We’ve all probably been tempted in such a situation to keep our eyes straight ahead, maybe fearing to intervene, or, being revolted at touching such a disreputable creature. We are often inhibited by fear. The suffering person seems unsavory, unclean. Do I really want to get near that dirty creature?

We human beings have a way of rationalizing our motives for actions. “It’s not my problem,” we might say. But most of us have at some time or other felt the rewards of being merciful, whether it be the soothing of a distraught infant, assuring a child there is no need for fear of whatever is frightening them, or sitting with an aged person to comfort them or allow them to vent their feelings.

I remember as a child when tramps, victims of the Depression I think, would stop at our back door, “bums” they were called, asking for something to eat and wanting to do some work to pay for it. My mother would always fix them something to eat and often they’d sit outside devouring the food before heading back to the railroad.

I remember at our home in Fairfield, after I was married and had a family of my own, every summer for several years, a little old man would stop at our door and want to sharpen scissors, knives, any small tool for cutting for just a small charge. I would always find something and would stop what I was doing, sit down with him in the yard and just talk, mostly me listening to his “yarns.” I got to expecting his visit.

Then after several years he stopped coming. I supposed he had died or become unable to get around any more. I always wondered what happened to him. I knew his last name or had something I called him, but for the life of me I can’t think of it. I can still envision this small wizened creature. He had good stories to tell, and I really wish I could remember his name.

I believe experiences like that, taking time to learn who a person is, where they’ve been, what they’ve learned, exchanging whatever it is one soul shares with another, is much more than just a passing encounter. I believe it is closely akin to that fulfillment we are ultimately seeking in life.

Did you ask yourself those questions: “What is quality of life?” And, “Have you found it?”

Harriett Gustason is a writer for The Journal-Standard. She can be reached at 815-235-3855 or hg3855@comcast.net.